


Pick a Star

by TheFalconWarrior



Series: Collections [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 100 words, Gen, Scribbles, don't mind me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFalconWarrior/pseuds/TheFalconWarrior
Summary: Random 100 word drabbles/fics.
Series: Collections [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1801597
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write, but was too out of it to work on anything I was mildly serious about. So I looked up a random word generator and went wild.  
> They're all 100 words, highly unedited, all over the place, and there's a lot of me rambling in the notes. But I'm kinda posting them anyways?

**A. Affrayer** **: Disturber of the peace**

_Sunday Dinner_

Tim stabbed at his food, careful not to hit the plate too hard. 

Everyone was silent. Tim didn’t look up, but he knew they all were also focused on their food. 

_Just get through dinner. Once it’s over, we can all get out of here._

Something clinked, then crashed. Jason shoved his chair back, cursing, whilst a wide-eyed Damian yelled “Sorry!” 

It should’ve been fine, as Jason grabbed at a napkin, Damian scrambling to help. But Batman was staring at Damian, and Dick had frozen next to Tim. 

Tim swallowed, hard, and waited for someone to make the next move. 

**B. Bletherskate** **: A garrulous talker of nonsense**

“Do you think bats can laugh?” 

Nightwing turned to the newest Robin, who sat at the console, chin cupped in one hand. 

“Shouldn’t you be at home? _Asleep_?” 

“Dad went poof,” Tim murmured. Dick blinked. Then, “Killer moth. There a lighthouse somewhere, that should work.” 

“Alright,” Dick shook his head, laughed. Tim just blinked as the Batcomputer went dark, and barely fought when Dick scooped him up. “Bedtime for little Robins.” 

“Bedtime is for chipmunks,” Tim muttered, even as he clutched onto Dick’s t-shirt and burrowed his face into Dick’s shoulder. 

Dick chuckled and kissed his hair. “Alright, Little Brother.” 

**C. Chronosynchronicity** **: Presentation of all stages of a person’s life in a single piece of art**

Tim had gone for Dick’s things, _after_. 

Dick finds out when they’re moving in, talking about things like furniture, and Tim mentions he has all of Dick’s...old things. Personal things. 

Dick feels bad, and glad. Tim takes the hug but waves off any attempts to talk. Dick needs...to figure that out. 

But for now, he hangs up his photographs. The Flying Graysons. Haly’s circus. Bruce and Alfred. Dick’s siblings, and his Robins. The Titans, a lot of the JLA. Lian, and Wally’s twins. Barbara. Bludhaven. NYC. Chicago. 

Tim yells something from the other bedroom. Dick smiles. 

This is home, now. 

**D. Delative** **: Indicating motion downwards**

_Deccel_ _Therapy_

Dick closes his eyes. 

The wind rushes past his face, blows hair into his eyes. Adrenaline sings in his veins. 

He falls. 

There’s nothing, and no one, but Dick Grayson, the Last of the Flying Graysons; the air, all around him; and gravity, pulling him down, down, hurtling towards Gotham’s stained pavement. 

Nightwing opens his eyes. 

His grapple is in his hand, the line catches the edge of the roof. And Nightwing swings, _flies,_ tumbles and rolls, a landing worthy of the Flying Graysons. 

He stands. Breathes. Stretches. 

Looks over the city before him. 

Back to work. 

_Back to life._

**E. Empery: Wide dominion, empire**

He is darkness. 

He is _the night_. 

He is young. He should be newly graduated, starting off a career, a life. 

He should be learning who he is, what he wants. 

He knows who he is. What he wants. 

He wants to save people. To save his city. 

But she has taught him: He can’t save her. Can’t save everyone. 

But he can save _someone_. Save as many someones as he humanly can. 

It will have to be enough to keep going. 

He does not think himself a hero. He is a guardian. 

He stands, and looks over his city. 

**F. Fanfaron: An empty boaster**

"Keep it,” Jason snarls. “I don’t need any of you.” 

“Jason,” Dick says. 

“No.” 

Dick says nothing. He watches. His face is sad, is blank, and Jason is sick of it all. 

“I know who I am. I know what I am. I know what I want. Stay the fuck away from me, _I don’t need you_.” 

He feels Dick watching him go. He doesn’t turn. He jumps, then he runs, and he doesn’t stop running. 

_I don’t need you_. 

Technically, maybe, no, he doesn’t. But he wants, he wishes, he yearns. 

_That’s not the same_. 

It’s not. It’s worse. 

**G. Glutinous: Gluey, sticky**

Here’s the thing: Stephanie had, honest to God, not actually meant to cover _Batman_ in purple goop. 

Any of the Batboys were fair game, of course. They were the ones who’d started this war. 

They all thought she’d gotten caught in someone’s prank somewhere, but the truth was, it just looked like fun. 

Anyways, the _laughter_ that had filled the cave in lieu of her confession meant it was _totally_ worth it. 

For the next month, Bruce Wayne was frequently seen in purple (eggplant!) shirts, ties, or socks and a grumpy face, and Stephanie Brown was hailed as a hero. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A. Make of it what you will.  
> B. Hm.  
> C. Bit after the Spyral thing. I have a story where Dick and Tim get an apartment together and it's ended up in a lot of my fics.  
> E. I'm pretty sure Bruce has begun Batman at a million different ages in different canons/universes/media types. He's in his very early 20s here.  
> F. I usually kinda avoid Jason's Big Story Arc in my fics and I've got a bit of a rosier kind of image of these guys but...I've got thoughts I guess lol.  
> G. I think I tend to avoid writing Steph, too. Don't get me wrong, I like her fine, I think she's cool, I just haven't read a lot of fics about her? And I know her from some of Tim and Cass's comics but never really read hers so I don't think I know her well enough to write her as more than a side character? I should read her comics.


	2. Part 2

**H. Halation: Blurring in a photograph due to light reflection**

Tim sits on the floor behind his bed. He has the little light on, because it’s not bright enough to leak through the crack under the door. 

He looks through his photos and frowns. The worst ones are mostly white or gray and even the best ones are all blurry. 

That’s frustrating, because Tim had to crawl out onto a gargoyle head to get those pictures. 

Well. There’s always tomorrow night, and the one after that, and the one after. Tim won’t be able to get the _same_ shot ever again, but there’s always _something_ interesting with Batman and Robin. 

**I. Incommutable** **: that can’t be commuted or exchanged**

Nightwing once told Robin that breaking Batman’s rules was part of being Robin. 

Batman is stony. Oracle, Spoiler, and Huntress are compliant. But Tim knows lonely nights and dark thoughts too well. He goes to Bludhaven. 

Dick is on the floor, surrounded by photographs. Tim recognizes Barbara, standing on two feet, and Jason, beaming. 

Dick doesn’t move until Robin’s fingers touch his shoulder. Then Dick grabs at him, pulls Tim down and into his lap even as he turns away from the photos. 

Dick holds tight, like Tim will disappear otherwise. So Tim presses close, and lets Dick hold him. 

**J. Jigamaree: Thingamajig or a cunning maneuver**

"You did what?” Tim just smirked. “That’s such a Tim move,” Jason huffed. 

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

“What?” 

“You made that sound like an insult.” 

Jason just shrugged. “Well, a Dick move is an insult, isn’t it? Ow!” 

Dick glared as Jason rubbed the back of his head. “ _Excuse me_.” 

“Oh, please. You’ve heard worse.” 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell you to shut up, Sparky Sparky Boom Man.” 

“The hell,” Jason said, but a peal of laughter from Steph and muffled chuckles from behind Tim’s hands interrupted. He glared at a smirking Dick. “If that sticks, you’re dead.” 

**K. Kith: Knowledge, one’s native land, friends**

“Happy Birthday!” 

Damian blinks. Drake and his camera are in the corner, which means he needs to be _very_ careful what he does next. 

He gets little choice when both Jon Kent _and_ Colin Wilkes slam into him. First. Damian feels others join them. When they’ve finally backed away, Damian first looks to Drake. 

He’s smirking. Damn. 

Then Damian blinks, because there’s a cake on the table, his entire family surrounding it. Jon, Colin, Maya, Emiko, and Wallace stand around him wearing paper party hats. 

Jon drags him forwards even as Damian fights to process. 

It’s his birthday. Damian smiles. 

**L. Legerity: Lightness, nimbleness**

“Oh we always start with Plan A. Even though it inevitably blows up in our faces, and we have to skip Plan B, C, D, E, and F straight down to M and take it from there.” 

Duke blinked. “So...Plan N?” 

“Yup.” 

“Which is?” 

The only answer was...a wink? He’s still learning to read expressions behind masks. “Follow my lead.” 

“That’s all you’re gonna give me?” 

“The sad truth is,” a voice piped up, “That’s all any of us have right now.” 

Duke blinked. 

“Hey, at least it’s not Plan Z5. That’s Nightwinging it, courtesy Mr. Jump-first-look-for-a-net-later.” 

Duke facepalmed. Okay. 

**M. Multivolent** **: Having several differing opinions; disagreeing**

“Chinese,” Damian started. 

Jason snorted. “Dude, you always want Chinese. Let’s mix it up a bit. Thai.” 

Steph rolled her eyes. “That’s basically the same thing--” 

“How _dare_ you.” 

“--I vote pizza.” 

“Indian,” Cass chimed in. 

Tim glanced up. "You don’t like Indian. Not the one around here.” 

Cass smirked. “I know.” 

“How ‘bout you, Tim?” Steph asked. 

Tim smiled faintly. “Thanks for asking. Fried chicken, but if someone starts fist-fighting I’m staying out.” 

Dick, standing by the phone, sighed. “I’m calling eldest privilege. We’re having gyro.” 

There were immediate protests. “Pick what you want, or you’re getting chicken.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H. I think Tim following Batman and Robin with a camera at night as a little kid is may largely be a fanon thing? (although he definitely DID have a camera when he went looking for Dick at the Titans'...) But if we have 8-year-old Robin Dick and 10-year-old Damian, I'm rolling with 9-year-old high-stakes photographer Tim Drake.  
> I. Well.  
> J. Honestly, this is largely based off Kimi's comment on White Lies. Also, I've been rewatching ATLA--I've seen snatches when I was a kid, but we didn't have much TV beyond PBS til like, three years ago, so I watched it online in high school. Like six or seven times. Then everyone was watching it cause it's on Netflix, and gushing to me, so I was like yeah let's watch it again. Still as awesome as it was the first time. Also I now need something good to watch mmph.  
> K. To whoever said "let Damian have friends"--hell yes. Although to be completely honest I wasn't completely sure who to include beyond Colin and Jon. Also I've never actually read comics with Colin but now I want to.  
> L. That was fun to write. That's all I've got to say.  
> M. I'm SO SORRY Duke's not in this one. TBH if I'm not thinking much I tend to lean toward writing five siblings cause that's what I've got? With Steph as that sibling-but-definitely-not-the-parents'-kid who's kinda just there? Also I just found out that apparently some people dislike when Cass is mentioned as being in Hong Kong without explanation. Tbh personally Cass living in Hong Kong's always just kinda made sense to me but I'm curious about other opinions.


	3. Chapter 3

**N. Neomenia** **: Period of the new moon**

There was no moon. 

She noticed when she stopped. Two hours to sleep, and then keep going. 

She didn’t stop. Didn’t hole up, or hide. She was good. _He_ was almost as good. And smart. She had to keep moving—keep him following, _behind_ her—she couldn’t stop, because then he might be able to find her. 

She’d run forever, if she had to. She wasn’t going back to him, would never pull the life from a body ever again. 

(There was no moon, right now. But the moon would be back, reborn. Bright, and beautiful, growing with every night.) 

**O. Ophiomormous** **: Snakelike**

“Is that--?” 

Nightwing swallowed. “Possibly.” 

They both ducked back behind the low wall, out of sight of the figure. 

“Think we’ll turn into stone if we look at her?” 

Nightwing rolled his eyes under the mask. “Assuming it’s a she?” A pause. “Well, better safe than sorry, right?” 

Red Hood’s face was covered by the helmet, but Nightwing heard the frown in his voice. “Well, surveillance just got a hell of a lot more complicated.” 

“Definitely.” 

“We don’t get paid enough for this,” Red Hood muttered. 

Nightwing snorted. “I’ll be sure to bring it up at the next Titans meeting.” 

**P. Pelurious** **: Furry, hairy**

Truthfully, Duke was _slightly_ surprised to learn that the smallest Robin—the scowling, huffing little kid he’d spent plenty of time with during the We Are Robin movement—was an animal lover, if the dog, cat, kittens, and ducklings were any indication. 

The cow and turkey were a little surprising. 

The...big furry winged bat-dragon thing. Well. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Goliath,” Tim said. Raised an eyebrow, smile at the edges of his lips. “You’re taking this better than I expected.” 

Duke shrugged. “This is Gotham.” 

Tim huffed a laugh, knocked their shoulders together. “Congrats, you’re officially the smartest in the family.” 

**Q. Quab** **: something unfinished or immature; an unfledged bird**

Tim doesn’t stick the landing. 

“You’re almost there,” Dick says. 

Tim hums. He’s tense. 

Dick crouches, takes his hands. “Hey. I’ve been doing this for _years_ —you got so far in months. You’re doing amazing, Robin.” 

Tim looks up. Dick can see doubt in his eyes. 

“We’re not letting you out there ‘til we _know_ you can handle it. I wouldn’t lie about this, buddy.” 

Tim finally smiles, small. “Really?” 

Dick smiles, too. How’d they end up with this kid? “Yeah.” 

Recognizing shortcomings is crucial. Tim seems to know well enough though. 

Kid should smile more. Dick’ll make it happen. 

**R. Renverse** **: To reverse, to upset**

"Is it Batmans or BatMEN?” Jason asked the ceiling. 

“Why would you even need to decide?” Duke asked. “It’s not like you’ll ever have to deal with two people as Batman at the same time.” 

“Alternate universes,” Tim said immediately. “Time travel.” 

“Discussing the past,” Duke realized. 

“That weird time when Dick and Bruce were Batman at the same time.” A pause. “That time when all four of us were fighting in Batman costumes.” 

“Sometimes,” said Duke, “I am reminded that I am very, _very_ glad you guys seem to have gotten just a little saner before I joined up.” 

**S. Splenetic: Marked by bad temper or spite, melancholy**

“Go away.” 

For a moment, Bruce imagines a different Robin, a different boy (a different son) straddling a gargoyle, sulking. 

He chides himself quickly. Jason’s not Dick. He has to remember that. 

Still. He hopes eight years stumbling through raising one kid helps out _a little_ now. Even if he’d pretty much fallen face-first partway through the first time and is still kinda. Stuck in the muck. 

Nope. He’s figured out a few things. (At the very least, a few things _not_ to do.) 

He sits down at the edge of the roof, waits. 

Prays he’s made the right move. 

**T. Tonitrous** **: Thundering**

Cass doesn’t like thunder. 

She’s on edge, can’t settle down because she’s waiting for the next boom. 

She knows it’s harmless. She also knows she can’t be caught by surprise. 

She finds her brothers in the living room. Tim is asleep, _warm safe happy_ , tucked into Dick’s side. Dick and Jason are awake--tense, _feeling thinking_ remembering, but they are loudly arguing about something on TV. 

“Move,” she tells Jason. 

“ _Excuse_ me,” Jason huffs. Cass doesn’t wait for him to finish blustering, just plops down on his legs. 

Dick laughs. Jason grumbles, shifts, but doesn’t dislodge her. Cass smiles. 

Better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N. Heh.  
> O. I don't write em often myself but I love stories where Dick and Jason are just kinda. Working together. Also came to the sudden realization that I don't actually get the 'Dick was a shit big brother to Jason' thing. Which. I don't know if it's me missing details or a difference of opinion?   
> P. I project on Tim sometimes. Hm.  
> Q. I always end up back with Dick and Tim lol.  
> R. There's too much happening in different timelines so let's say that's how I've sorted it out for at least on timeline.  
> S. Seriously, either Dick or Tim always seems to shove their way into my stories.  
> T. Might edit that and add to the other series. Hm.


	4. Part 4

**U. Usance: Habit, custom**

Tim wakes early. Even on weekends, and in spite of late-night adventures—now, patrol. He’ll nap later, if he’s tired. 

He’s barely awake when he stumbles to the bathroom. Just barely conscious leaving the room—his brain knows the schedule. Prep for coffee, take a shower. 

He stumbles, stops in the kitchen because. Wait. That’s a big fancy coffee machine and there’s a full jug. What...? 

“Morning, Master Timothy. You are up quite early.” 

Tim blinks. 

Alfred smiles. “Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes.” 

“Oh. Thanks?” 

Tim flounders, then moves to leave. Shower? 

This will take getting used to. 

**V. Vadelect** **: Servant, serving man**

He was just the butler. 

Bruce Wayne’s butler. Batman’s butler. Who stitched costumes and wounds; kept the Manor, played chauffeur. 

So when his charge—no, employer—pushed himself too far, ignored his pleas... 

He quit. 

Removed himself from the situation. Left a job where he was unappreciated. Cut ties. 

He found people he loved. A family. 

It was only when his charge (grandson? Who...?) came searching for him that he felt the first stirrings of...something. Only when he stood, with a confession and a family not his, he realized... 

He was not just the butler. 

Alfred Pennyworth was going home. 

**W. Wheep** **: Sound made by a steel weapon when removed from a sheath**

Robin’s boots hit the floor with a soft _thump_. His katana sings as he pulls it from the sheath; nowadays, it’s not often that he uses the sword, his preferred weapon. It’s not a weapon for Robin. 

_What’s_ that _supposed to mean?_ Drake’s voice whispers in his ear. Damian ignores it, as he usually does—even when it’s not _inside_ his head. 

But. Damian wields the blade with ease as he approaches—this _scum_. 

He is Robin, and all that it stands for. 

But he is also Damian Wayne. And no one— _no one_ lays a hand on his family. 

**X. Xerophytic: Able to withstand drought**

It’s tense. 

Robin is quiet. Artemis knows Robin hasn’t been seen for weeks, that Dick Grayson was absent from Gotham Academy almost as long. She knows Jade had randomly texted her, asking if she’d seen the kid, and the entire conversation was wiped by morning. 

Artemis had never finished League training, but Jade had. And Artemis had gotten pretty far. 

There’s more that connects Robin and Artemis than being ‘ _normal’._ But all she knows to do is keep an eye on him, join the Team trying to cheer him up, tell him she can listen, and hope he’ll be okay. 

**Y. Yawny: Prone to yawning, characterized by yawning.**

Dick stretches, yawns, _finally_ done with his report. He pauses, and sighs. He’s not the only one still in the cave. 

He turns. Blinks. Tim, in the chair he’d pulled up to the console, is asleep, head on folded arms. Duke, Jason, and Damian sprawled on the training mats, eyes closed. And slight movement against his feet makes him realize Cass is under the table, curled around his ankles. 

Well. Seems he doesn’t have to send anyone to bed. 

He probably _should_ , but it’s quiet and—dare he say it—peaceful. 

Instead, he mimics Tim’s position, and closes his eyes. 

**Z. Zoography: The painting or description of animals.**

Damian—Damian was born a prince. 

He has appreciated the value of large residences for _years._ Outwardly, Wayne Manor holds little competition for Ra’s al-Ghul's headquarters, but there are plenty of places to avoid human contact and find...silence. 

Titus sniffles from on an old cushion Damian had tossed to the floor. Damian pauses, pencil poised. Titus blinks at him sleepily, in front of him and from his sketchbook. The lines are familiar enough to be soothing, yet require enough concentration to completely occupy his mind. 

Damian scritches Alfred’s fur. Titus stretches and closes his eyes. Damian returns to his sketch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U. I really have no idea what I'm doing anymore.  
> V. Anyone know that very specific comics arc I'm talking about lol  
> W. No idea what that is? Me neither. Tim neither, apparently. Call it an AU.  
> X. That one kinda spiraled out of control. What's going on? Dunno, cept that it probably has something to do with Ra's al Ghul.  
> Y. Sleepy time.  
> Z. When Damian is feeling too much and needs to calm down a bit, he finds somewhere quiet and draws Titus.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've gotten all the way here I am honestly a little surprised lol. Thanks?


End file.
